


No Deaths Will Do Us Part

by floofboy



Category: Senyuu. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Codependency, Fluff, Immortality, In a sense, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Possessive Behavior, Unhealthy Relationships, Wedding Planning, Weddings, they're in a world that only has the two of them it's kinda inevitable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25951126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floofboy/pseuds/floofboy
Summary: It's not been long since Meta Alba was born, and he's still not quite sure of his place, of the divisions between himself and the real deal.But he does know that he wants to keep his Ros hale and happy, and that, he thinks, is a commonality between every Alba there'll ever be.
Relationships: Alba Frühling/Ross | Creasion, Meta Alba/Meta Ross
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	No Deaths Will Do Us Part

**Author's Note:**

> Do note the tags. Both Meta Alba and Meta Ros show some light possessive behaviour in this fic, and well, due to the nature of the world I've written them in, they have rather thick blinders towards everyone else.
> 
> I started writing this the moment I came to the conclusion that the Alba in the most recent chapter was Meta Alba. Please be happy together, Meta Albatross.

“Ros,” Alba says, somewhat flatly. 

“What is it, Hero?” asks a voice - bright, though a little muffled. 

Alba stares down at the man pressed into his chest, arms wrapped tight around Alba’s body. 

“Don’t you think you’re being kinda clingy?” Alba tries. 

Ros, in response, just presses in tighter. 

“Don’t you think you should be a bit more understanding?” Ros asks, sounding annoyed. 

“Of what?” Alba asks, exasperated now. “You’re acting strange, you know.”

“Strange for Ros, perhaps,” Ros concedes, “But I’m not him. And maybe you don’t understand because you were barely made weeks ago, but I’ve spent _years_ alone.” He leans back just a little, meets Alba’s gaze with a smile. “And now I finally have a hero of my own. Wouldn’t it be stranger if I weren’t clingy?”

“You just spent two chapters insulting me!” 

“That was barely anything by _Senyuu_ standards,” Ros says derisively, “And you should really know that’s just how I show my love.” 

His hand sneaks up, caresses Alba’s cheek, then Ros is leaning in, eyes flicking closed-

“S-stop!” Alba manages to blurt out, and Ros does stop immediately, though he looks more than a little displeased. 

He leans back from Alba once more, letting out a small sigh. “What is it?”

“Ros,” Alba starts, then hesitates and corrects himself. “Meta Ros.”

“What is it, Hero?” Ros asks again. 

Alba bites his lip for a moment before continuing. “It’s ‘Hero’ that you like. F5 Alba.” His hands fidget on his lap. “It’s like you said, it hasn’t even been a month since I was made, I’m just-”

“-What, a fake?” Ros cuts in, smile amused. “And you think I’m not?” He reaches out to take Alba’s hands in his own. 

Alba doesn’t stop him. 

Ros continues, “We’re both just constructions of the current web versions with some meta knowledge slapped on top.” He snorts. “I love Alba Frühling because I have all of the original’s memories that made him fall in love in the first place, and you, Hero-” His smile widens, sunny and bright. “-You’re that same hero, but with the same meta knowledge that I’m burdened with. You’re _my_ hero, no one else’s. Why would I not be in love with you the most?”

Alba lets his hands close around Ros’. 

“It… it isn’t as though I don’t love you most too,” Alba admits quietly. “But- I still don’t really get it, you know? What my place is, what your place is…”

“Of course you don’t,” Ros says with a snort. 

“Hey!”

“But you’ll have plenty of time to learn,” Ros continues, “We’re left pretty much alone when there isn’t anything meta to talk about, and lately that’s almost never.”

Something twinges in Alba’s heart at that all-too-casual statement. 

“So you were almost always alone?” 

“Oh?” Ros smiles. “Did I finally trigger the ‘protect Ros’ smile at all costs’ parts of your personality, Hero? Such a hero complex…”

“Wha- I don’t-” Alba sputters, face flushing red. “That’s not part of my personality!”

“Oh! I’m sorry.” Ros smirks. “It’s your entire personality, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t-” Alba cuts himself off, pausing. Then he scowls. “Don’t try to distract me, Ros.”

“What makes you-”

But then Ros’ mouth slams shut, because Alba is pressing into his chest, arms wrapping around tight. 

“I’m sorry for saying stupid things,” Alba murmurs, “Even if I was- am confused about things. You were right, I should’ve been more understanding.”

“...It’s not much fun if you say it so seriously,” Ros says, voice a little strained. Glancing up, Alba can make out a hint of red beginning to inch up Ros’ neck. 

“I still don’t really get who I am,” Alba continues regardless, “But- I know I shouldn’t leave you all alone again. So I’ll do my best.”

“You didn’t exist until a few weeks ago,” Ros says with a sigh. “You never left me alone.”

“Still!”

Ros snorts. “I didn’t quite realize that having my own hero would be so _suffocating,_ but in retrospect, I should’ve _._ ”

Alba can’t help but pout a little at that. “You were clinging all over me a second ago!”

But then he feels lips pressing against his head, ever so light. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it,” Ros murmurs, and Alba swallows. 

“Ah,” Alba says. 

(His voice may crack a little.)

* * *

“Should I call you Ros, or Meta Ros?” Alba asks curiously, not too long after their first little conversation. They’ve shifted a little, Ros looking rather happy with his head lying down in Alba’s lap. 

Their surroundings are still as indistinctive and pure white as ever though. Alba makes a mental note to ask Ros about it later. 

“Should I call you Alba, or Meta Alba?” Ros counters, and Alba frowns. 

“Neither,” he says, “Call me Hero.”

“You want to be a hero that badly?” Ros asks, bursting into snickers. “Oh wait - do you want to be _my_ hero that badly?”

“I’m just used to it, okay!”

“Yes, yes,” Ros says, voice lilting. He smiles. “Let me put it this way then - are you Alba, or Meta Alba?”

Alba’s frown deepens. 

“You can’t really say, right?” Ros says, a surprising note of sympathy in his voice. 

Alba has to admit that’s the case. 

He knows, logically, that he’s just a convenient tool. Another mouthpiece to spew information about meta topics into the main story, just like Meta Ros is. Any memories he has of any other event aren’t really his own. 

But at the same time, he _remembers._ He remembers feeling like his heart had been ripped from his chest when Ros disappeared. He remembers that painful year with only him and Rchi, remembers struggling to get stronger. He remembers frantically studying magic, remembers deciding to save all the worlds. Remembers wanting to guarantee that those he cared about wouldn’t have to worry about a thing ever again. 

And it’s easy for him to forget that those were just memories that he’d been granted. 

“To Web Alba, I’m Meta Ros,” Ros says with a shrug. “Because he has another Ros. The real me. But to you, well,” he shrugs again. “I’d rather be just Ros.”

Alba gives Ros a small, soft smile. 

“Okay,” he says.

* * *

Alba, Ros, they really are all alone in this world, this endless expanse of white. Time ticks by, but nothing changes but themselves. 

Ros comments on it, humming rather cheerfully as he does. 

“I don’t have to worry about anyone coming near you here,” he says. 

He presses into Alba’s side affectionately, looking far cuter than he deserves. Alba’s heart skips a beat, but he refuses to be seduced into just ignoring that little statement. 

“Web Ros doesn’t have to worry about anyone coming near his Alba either, you know,” Alba points out, rather sour. “It’s not like I’ve ever had many friends, let alone potential romantic partners.”

Ros raises an eyebrow. “There was everyone at the research center.”

“Wha- half of them were kids, and the other half…” Alba looks at him incredulously. “Elf and Alf?”

“The kids still took up your time,” Ros says bitterly. “And you spent a whole year searching for Elf, and saving Alf, and you let them join as founding members but not me.”

“You must know perfectly well why I didn’t want you to join,” Alba grumbles, 

“ _I_ know,” Ros agrees, then continues sweetly- “But my irritation comes from my memories of canon, which means it comes from Ros, who doesn’t know.”

“How’s that fair?!”

“It’s not, of course!” Ros says brightly. A smile spreads across his face. “But it doesn’t matter, because as I mentioned - I don’t need to share anymore.”

“Honestly,” Alba grumbles some more. “If you’re going there, I think I always had more to worry about than you ever did.”

“Oh?” Ros says, sounding rather surprised. 

“Crea-san?” Alba points out flatly. 

Ros just blinks at him. “Crea? You thought Crea was a love rival?”

“Well, I mean-” Alba says, trailing off into a mumble. “You always chose him over me…” He coughs and quickly backtracks- “I’m not saying that’s bad! But you still did…”

Ros snorts. “Hero, when have I ever done that?”

“I mean…” Alba says, feeling his face flush. 

“End of season 2?” Ros guesses, “You do realize that I would’ve been overjoyed if you had said you’d come with me, right?”

“As if I could’ve,” Alba mutters. 

“You could’ve,” Ros says primly, “If you had gotten over yourself and realized that being the hero in my stead didn’t mean letting go of me.”

“That wasn’t the only reason,” Alba objects. “Ros, you spent years trying to sa-”

“-Ah, so arrogance _and_ stupidity, I see.”

Alba scowls. “I was trying to be considerate!”

“And you’re terrible at it, so you really shouldn’t,” Ros says, annoyingly cheery. “Either way, I do believe it’s clear that ‘choosing Crea over you’ wasn’t something I’ve ever done.”

Alba should really let it go there. He’s gotten a nice enough reassurance, certainly more than satisfactory enough for most Albas out there. 

But it’s a rare opportunity to get Ros’ thoughts, one their real selves would never have. Because the real Alba, at least, would never dare even hint at what Alba is about to ask. 

So it can't be helped, really, that Alba opens his mouth once more to ask- “But what about when you sealed yourself away?”

Eyes wide, dead silent, Ros is clearly taken aback. 

“Why didn’t you consider any other options?” Alba demands, releasing all the pent-up frustration of an Alba who’d never release it himself. “You didn’t want to, you tried to avoid it at all costs, but the moment the First was unsealed you acted like that was game over.” He swallows. “You didn’t want to risk people trying to kill the First, right? Him, and Crea sleeping in him. That’s why…” his eyes flick to the ground. “That’s why you left so easily.”

Ros leans back from him. 

“You think it was easy?” Ros asks, cold, merciless, and Alba can tell immediately that he’s misstepped. 

“I, um,” Alba stammers out. “I didn’t mean-”

“It felt,” Ros continues, the anger in his voice clear as day, “like I was tearing myself apart into jagged pieces. It took everything I had to keep myself together long enough to say farewell. And you think it was easy?” 

“...I’m sorry,” Alba says, quietly, genuinely. “That was wrong of me.”

That last accusation had been a mistake. He shouldn’t have said it was easy - of course it hadn’t been, not when seeing Ros leave had hurt so badly for Alba himself. 

Ros had certainly left quickly, but-

“I might have left quickly, but I’m used to making tough decisions that fast, Hero,” Ros says, tone still unforgiving. “That doesn’t make them any less difficult for me.”

“Right…” Alba mumbles, shrinking into himself. 

“And even besides that, it was for you as much as it was for Crea and for my- as much as it was for Crea.” Ros sighs, short and irritated. “Would you just think for a moment? Stop sinking so deep into Web Alba’s memories for a moment and I’m certain you can tell why.”

Stop sinking into the real him’s memories? 

So Ros means that there’s something that the original doesn’t know, but everyone else does. In that case…

“Oh.” Alba swallows. “You were afraid I’d die again.”

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” Ros says dismissively. “I wouldn’t say _afraid._ ”

Alba gives him a look, and Ros, as reluctant as he seems to be, relents. 

“Fine. I was afraid,” Ros admits. “I know it looked like I was completely overpowering Rchimedes, but there’s a reason why it took me so long to seal him away.” He smiles wryly. “Rchimedes is- was very good at playing dirty, and once he really got his bearings, there were hostages all around us. Including you.” 

“...That year I spent without you,” Alba says after a moment. “I spent a lot of time thinking about those last moments before you sealed yourself away. But I never managed to think of a reason why you couldn’t find another option when you were so ridiculously strong.” He glances down. “Eventually, the real me just dismissed it as your need to fulfill your duty. But deep down, even if he won’t ever admit it, he does think the same as I did. That you wanted to protect Crea above anyone else.”

“Of course I wanted to protect him,” says Ros, rolling his eyes. “It’s just that wasn’t all there was to it. I wasn’t all-powerful, Hero, not even at my most dangerous.”

“Right. Obviously,” Alba mumbles, feeling even more embarrassed now. “I’m sorry.”

But it seems as though Ros’ anger has faded somewhat, because Ros just laughs lightly. 

“It’s okay, Hero,” Ros says. “I know it’s easy to get wrapped up in saying what would never be said otherwise.” He leans in, eyes meeting Alba’s, then smirks. “And besides, it’s quite fun hearing some terribly unherolike thoughts from you.”

Alba flushes red. 

“I-” he starts, defensive, but immediately deflates. “I… don’t have anything to say in my defense.”

Ros fulfilling his duty as a hero by sealing himself away with Rchimedes should’ve been self-explanatory. And yet, he had thought about it. Wondered, on sleepless nights, why Ros hadn’t considered any other option, even while knowing perfectly well those other options may have very well threatened the world. 

‘Unherolike’ was the softest way to describe thoughts like that, really. 

“But…” Alba says finally, ”Ros, I need to tell you something.”

Black eyes blink at him. “Yes?”

“I… the real me too, but me in particular, I… I’m not a perfect hero,” admits Alba. His fists clench. “To save you, I would’ve sacrificed the world, if that’s what it took. ‘Unherolike’ thoughts, they're aren’t really- really that uncommon for me.”

The world, to Alba, has always been secondary. Saving people gave him a fuzzy feeling inside, sure, but fighting monsters, bringing peace - in the end, it’s always been a means to an end for him. 

Being a hero meant he could look for Ros. Bringing peace meant his loved ones, as few as there were, could live without fear. 

But completely ignoring Alba’s difficult confession, Ros proceeds to flick his forehead, hard. 

“Ow!” Alba yelps, hands jumping up to cover the spot of pain. 

“I know that, obviously.” Ros rolls his eyes. “While I would prefer to be ‘just Ros’ to you, I would still ask that you stop forgetting that I _am_ Meta Ros.”

“Y-you do?”

With a soft thump, Alba is pulled into Ros’ chest, his eyes widening in surprise.

“ _I’m not going to save the world,_ ” coos Ros into his ear, and Alba freezes rock solid. “ _I’m just going to go bring back my friend!_ ”

“Wa-wait-”

“ _The hero will save his friend, even if it means sacrificing the world!_ ”

“That’s not a quote from me, where is that one even _from-_ ”

“ _I don’t care about any of that though,_ ” Ros continues heartlessly. “ _All I want is for him to keep smiling!_ ”

“You added in the end of that sentence yourself!”

“Was it wrong, though?” Ros asks brightly. 

“Urgh…”

(It wasn’t.)

Alba buries his burning face as deep into Ros’ chest as he can go. 

“There’s nothing to worry about, Hero,” Ros says. Alba can hear the smile in his voice. “There’s no _one_ to worry about either, not here.” Alba feels lips brush his ear, gently, then- “I won’t hold back, so you don’t need to either.”

“...Even if I’m not a proper hero anymore?”

“Especially if,” Ros murmurs. 

At those words, Alba feels something in him loosen. 

(And simultaneously, he feels himself take a step away from the real him.)

* * *

“You know,” Alba grumbles, spread out on the white, white ground. “Is there nothing we can do about our scenery?”

“I’m afraid you’ll simply have to get used to it,” Ros responds, and Alba releases a long-suffering sigh, resigning himself.

But some moments later, there’s snickering coming from above him, and Alba jerks a squinted gaze up towards the noise. 

“Sorry, that was a lie!” Ros says, ever-so-bright. 

“Hey!" complains Alba, genuinely a bit irritated. "I was preparing for eternity in this white nothingness, you know!”

“And it was very amusing seeing your expression of despair,” says Ros, “But I’m getting rather bored as well, so I’d like to go back to my house now.”

Perking up, Alba scrambles to his feet. “You have a house?”

“Of course I do,” Ros says snidely, then takes Alba’s hand in his own. “Follow me.”

Ros takes them a few steps forwards, then the scenery around them abruptly changes in a swirl. The sky and ground are still as white as ever, but there’s a small cottage in front of them now, one storey, dark blue. It's a nice house, even if small. A few garden patches surround the home as well, an assortment of vines and flowers and vegetables growing in them. 

“Don’t squashes and tomatoes grow in different seasons?” Alba asks, squinting at one of the vegetable patches. 

“Plant seasons were a pain, so I didn’t bother to recreate the behaviour,” Ros says dismissively. 

“I see…” Alba says, though he doesn't really see.

"Making things here is similar to creation magic, but there's a few more finicky aspects to it," explains Ros, "So I don't bother always recreating real-world behaviour one-to-one."

"I guess that makes sense."

“Anyways, Hero.” Ros slips his hand free from Alba's grip and waves him a goodbye. “I’m heading in now, so adios!”

“Wait, what?” Alba sputters. “You’re not going to let me in?!”

Ros gives him an utterly flabbergasted expression. 

“What’s with that look?” Alba complains, “Isn’t it obvious for me to expect my lover to let me into his house?”

“Well… I suppose, if you insist…” Ros says in a rather exaggeratedly reluctant tone. 

“Yes, I insist!”

So while it takes a little more discussion than it really should’ve, Ros does bring him into the house. It really is small, with only three rooms - a bedroom, a kitchen that doubled as a dining room, and a study.

Alba eyes the study with the most interest - there's books piled up to the brim in the room, and Alba is curious what kind of books are in a place like this.

“I’ve made a lot of houses in the past,” Ros says, watching as Alba skims through titles on the shelves. “So I don’t mind making a new one with you, if you’d like. Making things is how I spend most of my time here.”

Alba smiles. “That sounds fun.”

“It isn’t quite as much fun alone,” Ros admits, a little quietly. 

After a moment of hesitation, Alba turns back. And in a single smooth move, he steps forwards and brings Ros into his arms.

“But we can do it together now,” Alba murmurs, pressing his face into Ros' shoulder.

“Ugh, don’t try to act all cool, Hero,” Ros says with a derisive snort.

But there’s a fond smile on his face, and that’s good enough for Alba.

* * *

Time doesn’t pass in this world, not really. 

That isn’t to say they couldn’t get clocks working, or plants growing, but as for themselves, nothing ever changes. They can eat if they’d like, but they don’t need it. They can sleep if they’d like, but there’s no need. 

Alba insists on trying to maintain a regular day-night cycle though. 

“I read once that not having a proper cycle like that can bring down your mood,” he says. 

“All I need to bring up my mood is you, Hero,” Ros counters, and while Alba blushes a little, he doesn’t back down. 

“Then this will bring it up even more,” he says firmly. 

So to fulfill that goal, Alba tries to transform the blank sky. Ros just watches at first, seemingly amused by simply seeing Alba’s pathetic struggles. 

“How did you even get white and blue polka dots?” Ros asks, gazing up to the sky with a laugh. 

“I was trying to make clouds for a clear blue sky, okay!” Alba says defensively. 

Eventually though, Alba does manage a decent enough still facsimile of a blue sky. 

But then he runs into a problem. 

“I can’t make it change…” he mumbles. 

They could force small objects, like their plants, to have time tick by for them. But the world as a whole, just like Alba and Ros themselves, were stopped still, and trying to make time tick by for the world would require far more power than either Alba or Ros had on hand.

“I did try making a sky once as well,” Ros says with a shrug. “But I gave up after I ran into the same issue. There’s no way to force time to move, Hero.”

Alba shakes his head. “There has to be a way.”

“It’s really not a big deal.”

“I want to,” Alba insists, flushing a little. “I want to make this into a nice world. For both of us.”

(Nice enough that Ros would forget his years of loneliness in it.)

Maybe Ros could sense the meaning behind his words, because his expression softens into something more indulgent. 

“Oh, fine, Hero,” he says. “Let’s brainstorm.”

They spend some days debating over the issue. A looped animation wouldn’t work, because there was no frame of reference to attach its loop too. They could manually adjust the sky at appropriate dawn and dusk times, but that would be too much work for Alba’s taste. 

The solution, in the end, comes to Alba when staring at their alarm clock. 

“Why don’t we just tie the animation to a different frame of reference?” Alba exclaims.

* * *

So they have a sky controlled by an alarm clock, and gardens filled with flowering plants of every season, but Alba thinks the world is still shaping up to be rather nice. 

They’re called out a couple times over the months that pass on by, to make silly announcements and to appear in special holiday chapters, but in general, Ros was right - they’re mostly left to their own devices. 

Alba wonders, sometimes, how much of him was from the real him, and how much of him was twisted to survive his meta knowledge. 

He wonders sometimes what grants him his blissful happiness with no one but Ros by his side.

And it’s that blissful happiness that makes him ask one day, as he’s gazing at Ros plucking apples from trees with a ladder-

“Do you want to get married?”

Ros stares down at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“We can’t really have a wedding,” Alba says, “And there’s no one to officiate, and no one granting licenses. But…” he coughs. “We could still make ourselves a nice venue, get dressed up, exchange rings… we were looking for a new project, weren’t we?”

Ros steps down the ladder, a smile dancing on his face. “Hero, you’re saying you want to marry me as a ‘new project’?”

Alba chokes. “That’s not- that was badly phrased, I just meant-”

He stammers out excuses for a few moments more before Ros finally takes pity on him. 

“-Oh, very well,” Ros says, letting out a deep sigh. “I suppose we can get married.”

Alba brightens.

* * *

They have all the time in the world, so they spend a rather long while researching, planning, creating. Any book they could imagine could be materialized in the space, and while they couldn’t communicate through their computer, they could access some Internet references at least. 

“By the water would be nice,” Ros comments, and so they spend a few months making a lake and a forest to surround it. 

Looking out across the lake, Alba is hit with a new idea. 

“Maybe a gazebo wedding?” Alba suggests, “On a cliff above the lake. If we swap out the trees in the area for fruit trees, we could have them blossom as well.”

“You could’ve mentioned that before we finished the entire forest,” Ros gripes a little, but he helps out with the task regardless. 

Once they have a location just the way they like it - a mid-sized lake, faintly blue and only the slightest ripples, and a blossoming forest blowing petals pink and white through the air - the rest of the preparations are stupidly simple in comparison. 

They still take their time though, at least at first. 

“Let’s learn how to flower arrange,” Ros declares, and so that’s what they do. 

But by the time they finish decorating the gazebo and its surrounding area with beautifully arranged flowers, Alba has finally had enough. 

“I refuse to learn how to design clothes, or make jewelry, or any of that,” Alba grumbles. “Can we just pick something that looks nice from a book or something and get married already?”

“So impatient, Hero.”

“It’s been years! I think I’ve been incredibly patient!”

“Oh, fine,” Ros says, then with a small cough- “I guess I’m getting rather impatient as well.”

* * *

Ros jokes around at first, when they’re looking through magazines to pick out outfits to materialize. 

“Hero,” he suggests, grinning widely. “Why not wear this?”

And the next moment, Alba finds himself clad in a frilly white dress, pink and blue trim at its edges. Reaching up, he can feel the warmth of a Mana Maker, though with a metallic core. If this was the outfit Alba suspected it was, there was no doubt a hero symbol pinned on his head. 

“I’m not wearing this to get married,” Alba says flatly. 

“But it’s a canon outfit,” Ros says mournfully, “And it suits you so very well.”

Alba isn’t entirely sure whether or not Ros is just mocking him, but he decides to take it as a compliment regardless. 

“Thanks,” Alba says, “But I’m still more comfortable wearing pants.”

“More comfortable wearing shorts, you mean.”

Alba opens his mouth, then shuts it. 

He coughs. “Anyways. I’m not wearing this dress to our wedding.” He brings his hand up to his head once more. “...But I guess I might as well keep the accessory.”

Ros looks satisfied enough at that.

* * *

The day of their wedding is sunny. 

(Though technically speaking, every day is sunny. Implementing weather patterns was something they hadn’t looked into just yet, but that worked out just fine in this case at least.)

In the end, they both go for a rather straightforward look - white three-piece suits, a black rose tucked into each of their shirt pockets. They try their hands at hair gel to style their hair, but Ros breaks down into uncontrollable laughter at any of Alba's new looks, so they ditch it in the end.

(Ros had suggested tucking red roses in their pockets at first, but Alba quickly turned that down. 

“I’m sure the real Alba, whenever he finally gets married, will have mountains of red flowers at his wedding,” Alba said, a little dryly. “And I’m sure he’ll be gushing all day about how they match his Ros’ eyes.”

“So you want to do that too, I see,” Ros said with a nod. 

“What? No!” Alba coughed, then a little quieter. “...Maybe.”

Ros just grinned. 

“Anyways! What I want to say is-” Alba took Ros’ hands in his own. “I’m marrying you. Not Web Ros. And I want flowers that match your eyes, not his.”

“So cheesy, Hero,” Ros said affectionately. “But I suppose I’d prefer flowers that match your eyes as well.”)

They walk up the road to the gazebo hand-in-hand, blossoms flying around them, as they always do in this forest they’ve made. 

Both of them had considered having one of them wait up by the altar they’ve constructed, but unfortunately, they came to an impasse when it came to deciding who would be the one waiting. Walking together was the compromise. 

When they reach the altar on the innermost side of the small gazebo, they stop to face each other. 

Staring at Ros’ smiling face, the light pink tinge to his cheeks, the soft look in his beautiful eyes - it makes his throat go dry. He can barely take in rest of the scenery they'd spent so much time on, the lake shimmering in the background, the trees almost all around.

“Hero,” Ros says with a cough, nudging him to start. 

“Ah! Sorry!” Alba coughs as well. “Um. Ros." He swallows. "Do you take me as your husband, for better or for worse?” 

“I, Ros Frühling-”

“-Hey!” Alba cuts in with a sputter. “Why are you using my name already?”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve lived together long enough for common law to kick in,” Ros says brightly. 

“There’s no such thing as common law in this place!” Alba complains, “And besides, that wouldn’t change your name anyways!”

“I’d tell you not to fuss over the small details, but I am aware you’re physically incapable of holding back retorts,” Ros drawls. 

“And you’re physically incapable of not making jokes,” grumbles Alba. 

“And you love me all the more for it,” Ros says sweetly, “Because I, Ros _Frühling_ , do take you as my husband, for better or worse, so long as I still breathe and beyond. I promise to never let you go, no matter what may happen in worlds beyond our own. I love you dearly, and I will forevermore.”

And Alba’s face begins to burn. 

“You knew our vows already,” Ros says, beginning to flush as well. “Why do you look so embarrassed?”

“I didn’t expect- I thought you’d joke about it!” Alba explains hurriedly. “I never thought you’d actually say it exactly the way we wrote them...”

“What,” Ros says flatly, eyes beginning to narrow. 

“But I’m happy! I’m really happy,” Alba blurts out, smiling wide. 

Ros seems a little pacified by that, because with an amused snort, he continues their little makeshift ceremony. 

“So then, do you, Alba Frühling, take me as your husband, for better or for worse?”

“I do,” Alba says firmly. “I, Alba Frühling, take you as my husband, for better or worse, so long as I still breathe and beyond. I promise to never let you go, no matter what may happen in worlds beyond our own. I love you dearly,” he swallows, a helpless smile beginning to spread across his faces “and I will forevermore.”

And with that, they reach out to fetch a ring from the altar - simple golden bands, but Alba loves them nonetheless - and smoothly place them on each other’s hands. 

“You may now kiss the groom,” Ros says with a playful smile, and Alba proceeds to do just that.

* * *

‘Eternity’ is a concept difficult to fathom. 

Alba would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried that Ros would eventually grow bored of him, that he’d begin to detest living in this world with only Alba for company. 

But at least he has this. Their marriage, the here and now, the eternal love that they’ve vowed, no matter what might happen elsewhere. 

Eternity is a concept difficult to fathom. 

But he thinks he’ll be happy seeing it through with Ros. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading until the end! I do hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Hit us up at the [senyuu discord](https://discord.gg/EPxGygy) if you'd like!


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